Angels Ascending
by IAmToast24
Summary: It's the final battle for the Black Volume. Emma fights alongside her family and friends, but will their strength be enough to overcome the Cohort and all they stand for? Even if they can defeat Zara Dearborn and her associates, will the power of Emma and Julian's bond destroy them once and for all? Find out in this two part telling of the epic end to The Dark Artifices.
1. In the End

**Part 1/2**

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The battle is all around her and so is the storm.

The Black Volume sits atop the old seelie throne, a remnant of a lost era, its position hidden to almost everyone but her companions. Still, the battlefield is prime for a fight, and the Cohort is not backing down. Neither are the faerie warriors sent by the Seelie Queen. Caught between it all is Emma Carstairs and everyone she holds dear.

Right now she's cutting through the soft underbelly of some demon sent by the Unseelie King to retrieve the book. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma can see her companions: Ty, Kit, and Dru to her left, Clary and Jace to her right, and Julian across from her. Cristina, Mark, Diego and Kieran are still unaccounted for, but she can't think about that right now. All she knows is the rain pouring down on her as she slices through flesh.

She has to get to the Black Volume before anyone else. Not only to keep it from the Cohort's hands, but also because she is the only one who can figure out how to destroy it. Though she hasn't told anyone yet, not even Julian, her father came to her in a vision again, this time letting her know that she holds the key to everything.

 _In your time of need, when all hope turns to ruin, you will know what must be done,_ the ghost of her father had told her. _And remember, Emma, Cortana can cut anything._

She's getting closer to the throne, and she can sense that Julian is with her, matching her advancement. He's a part of her now, more than he was before. It's strange to feel him so acutely. She can hear his thoughts as he can hear hers; she can feel his heart beating as if it lives inside her own chest. She knows, of course, that the power will soon turn on them if they don't separate, but having him connected to her doesn't feel like a bad thing at the moment. In fact, it's exhilarating.

Emma loses herself in the fight, in the familiar pattern of blocks and blows, Cortana slashing with grace like an extension of her arm. She finds herself so close to the book that she lets herself look back at Julian. He's kicking a demon in what looks to be its rib cage, forcing it down so that he can plunge a seraph blade into its side, effectively killing it. As it disintegrates, he reaches for an arrow to shoot but finds none. Immediately, he begins looking for a spare and sees one in a faerie body next to him. He goes to get it.

Meanwhile, Emma is just a step away from the Black Volume. Another demon comes at her, and she slashes it with ease. She turns around to check on Julian once more, a smile on her face. There's a moment of blind hopefulness when everything seems like it might work out in their favor, and she just has to share it with him.

That's when she sees the darkened, hazel eyes of Zara Dearborn, standing right behind Julian, who is on one knee with his back to her. In her mind's eye, Emma can see what is about to happen, can sense the impending doom hanging over them. Emma tries to warn him, tries to cry out, but there's no time. Her mind is filled with him, and she can tell that he senses it because he looks up at her just then, a worried look on his face.

 _Emma_ , she hears in her head, his voice softly caressing her.

 _Julian_ , she thinks, hoping he hears her. But it's not enough to save him. Not this time.

With malice in her eyes, Zara plunges a seraph blade into Julian's back.

Time freezes. The battle around her ceases to exist. Emma feels it like a punch to her stomach, pain searing through her every cell. Her parabatai's ocean blue eyes gaze at her with confusion, the edges crinkling into waves of pain. All of the lies, all of the plots and the deaths and the pain, they seem to leave him in one fell swoop. No longer do his eyes hold anything but the truth. And the truth is agony. As if from a distance, she hears herself yelling his name.

"Juuules!" The name of the boy she grew up with, the one who played with her when they were too little to fight and fought with her once the world had turned into something dark and hopeless. The boy who took her in and cared for her even when she was broken, even when he already had so much on his plate. The boy whose soul had been crushed by an evil war, a war that left him parentless by his own hands. The boy who had grown into the man she now loves.

She watches him deflate, his rigid spine loosening like a balloon slowly expelling air. There's too much space between them, too much distance. His eyes leave hers for just a moment to look down at the blade embedded in his torso, and when he looks back up, there is a single red tear falling from the corner of his mouth.

The storm rages on around her, droplets clinging to her gear, water sliding down her cheeks to mask the tears. Hot tears of anger and grief. She thinks of all the things she never got to say to him, all the things they never got to do together. Memories flash in her mind: Julian wrapping her up in his arms as she cried; Julian slashing at a demon that had her pinned beneath its claws; Julian crashing into her like a wave, his lips hot and desperate against her own. Zara pulls her blade out of Julian's body, leaving him to fall onto the ground, mud splashing like a dirty halo around his soaked form.

Emma can't think straight, can barely stand, as she watches Zara smirk down at him. Rage like she's never felt before takes over.

"Aaaaahhhh!" she yells, the scream torn from her throat as she charges wildly at Zara. She slashes Cortana, the metal meeting Zara's blade with a familiar clang, but Emma is filled with anger and hatred, and her swing easily knocks the girl's blade to the ground. Without hesitation, Emma kicks her into the mud, watching as her smug grin transforms into a look of fear.

 _Good_ , Emma thinks. _Let her know what it is to be truly afraid_. But a part of her knows that no amount of fear or pain she inflicts will force this girl to understand the grief Emma feels. And that thought brings with it another bout of rage. Suddenly it's as if she can't control herself, a force taking over her body. She slashes downward with Cortana, sinking her blade into Zara's heart, the girl's eyes glazing over almost instantly.

When she raises the sword, it seems to be glowing, the edges set ablaze with golden light. Rage surges inside her once again, but this time it's different. It's directed at the Black Volume. So much pain has been caused over this book of destruction and death. With this thought in her mind, and some outside force pushing her towards it, she turns to the throne, the book sitting open atop it, and brings her sword down with all her might.

Instantly, she's thrown back, losing her grip on Cortana. When she lands, the storm around her stops, as does the battle. The blast seems to have knocked them all down - faerie, shadowhunter, and demon alike. Where the Black Volume used to sit is now a charred mess on the throne, smoke lifting from the ashes like darkened angels ascending to heaven.

 _Emma,_ she hears in her head, his voice just a faint whisper breaking though the ringing in her ears. Looking around, she spots her parabatai across from her, his hand outstretched. She crawls over to his limp body, trying not to notice the pool of blood in which he's lying.

"Jules," she whimpers, her voice reminiscent of her younger self: small and scared. Everyone around them is picking themselves up from the blast, but Emma can't think about them, can't focus on anything but the dying boy in front of her. She lifts his head into her lap, cradling him as he struggles to breathe.

"Oh god, oh god," she's mumbling. "No, no, no, no…"

"Em," he says, his eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a falling butterfly. "Take care of them." He gasps in pain, his features contorting in a way that stabs Emma's heart. "For me. Please." Tears roll down her cheeks and onto his already-soaked body.

"I will," she manages, nodding her head uncontrollably. His family is hers, too. "I will. I promise." People are starting to congregate around them now. On the edge of her vision, Emma can see Clary's vibrant hair and Mark's glistening, multicolored eyes. But nothing they can say or do will save her parabatai now, so she ignores them.

"I always thought it would be you," Julian tells her, blood coating his lips as he attempts to form them into a smile. "Thought I'd have to watch you die." That has always been his greatest fear: watching the people he loves die. He's had to live through that nightmare too many times already, and Emma can tell what he's thinking without having to read his mind. Maybe he should feel guilty or sorry, and he does, he does, but he's also relieved in a way because at least he won't have to go through it again.

And a part of him, she knows, believes that he deserves this.

Still, she wishes against all logic that they could be granted more time. There are so many hopes she never before acknowledged that are now swirling around in her head. True, he has always been with her, always been a constant fixture in her life. But, now that she realizes he won't be in her life any longer, she wants more than that, wants to come home to him and wake up with him and raise children of their own with him. The desire hits her forcefully, uncovering something long ago buried, like air caught beneath a cup in a bowl of water rising to the surface. She sees their life now, the one where they are no longer bound yet forbidden.

"Shhh," she cooes, running her fingers down his cheek. "I'm right here and I'm never going to leave." Her hands are trembling but she doesn't let her voice waver. "We're going to figure everything out, Julian. You'll see. We'll finish raising the kids and then we'll start our own family, just you and me." His lips twitch upward.

"Just like my dream," he wheezes.

"Yeah," she assures him, "just like your dream." She runs a finger over his bottom lip, then his jaw, tracing him, trying to commit him to memory. Not his features really, because she can remember those as if they are her own, but the feel of him, the warm of his touch. "And we'll get married on the beach next to the ocean I'm no longer afraid of. And I'll let you paint me whenever you want. And, when we least expect it, I'll get pregnant with our first child." She smiles down at him, letting go of a shaky breath.

"What will we name it?" he asks, a bittersweet mix of pain and joy written on his face.

"Olivia for a girl, I think," she tells him, a wave of warmth going through her when she realizes that this was the dream all along, whether she admitted it to herself or not. "But we'll just call her Livvy."

"And for a boy?" he asks, the light behind his eyes fading fast.

"Andrew after your father." The details are becoming more clear to her now. "But his middle name will be John, after mine."

"Good." He begins closing his eyes, but Emma shakes him.

"Don't go yet, Jules," she cries. "It can't end like this. I'm not ready." Now she's sobbing, her body aching, her face hot. There's no air. She can't breathe.

"My Emma," Julian whispers, reaching up to touch her wet cheeks. She can feel her lower lip trembling as she leans into his gentle touch. "My universe."

"I love you, Julian Blackthorn." His hand drops from her cheek, his eyelids fluttering closed for the very last time. "I love you more than starlight."

* * *

 **Part 2 will be coming soon**


	2. We Are Free

**I'm really sorry this took so long to write and perfect. I haven't had inspiration and motivation in months, plus I've been super busy. I hope you like it anyway!**

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Shadowhunters and downworlders alike stand around the two parabatai, one of them dead, the other broken. Emma knows what it must look like, what they must have heard. She can't bring herself to care. Julian is gone.

She slowly becomes aware of Mark sobbing behind her, followed by the sound of Dru screaming. It's loud and hopeless and raw. She wishes she, herself, could let her pain out somehow, but she's frozen. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Ty on the ground, Kit hugging him tightly as they rock back and forth silently. Julian would be glad that they have each other. The thought burns in her chest.

Then she realizes that it's actually her parabatai rune that's burning, the source coming from its position on her upper arm, but she barely feels it. The physical pain means nothing to her, not compared to the pain of his loss. The odd thing is that she can still feel him, as if the rope that tethered them to each other hasn't yet been cut. She can still see the edges of Julian's rune, its form slowly fading from his body. She wants to reach out and trace it, one last time. But her hand doesn't seem to be responsive to her wishes. Or maybe she just can't stand the thought of touching him like she used to when the essence of what made him Julian is no longer there.

"Emma," a soft voice whispers as a hand rests on her shoulder. It's Cristina. Emma doesn't have to look up in order to know. It's the kind of wordless understanding that parabatai should share: not a psychic connection like she shared with Julian, but a gentle link between two people who care for each other deeply.

Emma wonders, not for the first time, what it would have been like if she had met Cristina earlier, if they had become parabatai instead. What would it have been like to love Julian openly? To kiss him and touch him without worrying about the consequences? It doesn't matter now. She'll never know.

An icy rage fills her body. This is not how their story ends, not with the simple, devastating blow of death, of a life cut too short and then wrapped neatly into a bow. She imagines going back to the institute, every square inch a memory of them together, the scent of him still lingering in the halls. She imagines walking along the beach where they made love for the first time, just two hearts learning that there was so much more between them than friendship. And just the thought of it, of living without him, steals the breath from her lungs. She understands now, what Julian had said after pulling her out of the water. His death should mean hers too, and she would be glad for it.

The unfairness of it all travels through her shocked veins, her blood a flowing river, Julian's a lake into which rivers empty. What she wouldn't give just to hold his hand in hers one more time. Or to hear his rare laughter spark a fire inside her chest. Or to kiss his warm lips with her own in a silent declaration. _I'm here_ , her lips would say. _Please don't go._

With this in mind, she leans over him, her body once again seeming to move without her volition, and plants a tender kiss on his parted, bloody lips. The skin there is already growing cold, not at all infused with the soul of the boy she loves. Loved. Or maybe she can still love him in the present while his life is in the past. Perhaps that is the root of grief: loving someone who can longer return that love, can no longer even receive it. A tear falls from her cheek onto his.

There's a feeling of weightlessness, as if she's floating above herself, no longer completely attached to the mortal realm. Memories, an onslaught of them, replay all at once as if she's watching a movie or in a dream. Jules chasing her on the beach while their parents laughed, sand swirling around them when she let him tackle her to the ground. Jules clinging to her the night that his mother passed away, rocking softly as his tears soaked her pajamas. Julian trailing his fingertips across her skin as they danced, the tenderness of his touch exciting her in ways she knew it shouldn't. Julian kissing her slowly as the morning light shone into her room, looking so beautiful that her heart contracted. Her whole life has been wrapped up in him. He _is_ her life; to live without him is unfathomable.

Suddenly, she's thrust painfully back into her own body. There is a bright light behind her closed eyelids and a different, more pronounced sensation of weightlessness. She opens her eyes to find herself and Julian floating above the ground, surrounded by golden light. The light travels around them like a slow blowing tornado. She feels the burning sensation of her parabatai rune grow stronger and watches as Julian's rune glows, burning away his bloody shirt. She can feel her shirt burning away as well, the soft weight of the fabric drifting away until her skin is exposed to the increasingly heated air. A bright, golden light bursts from Julian and connects with her body.

For a moment, all she can see is that golden light as if it is shooting from her own eyes. Then, images flash before her eyes at a blinding speed. Some of them are from her life, from her childhood with her parents and her years spent with the Blackthorns. But there are others that she doesn't quite recognize, ones that she knows are not her own. Many of them have no meaning to her, though she can tell that each of them include two parabatai. Among them, there are flashes that seem familiar. There is a boy with jet black hair and crystal blue eyes dressed in old, strange clothing, Jem beside him laughing with such joy. Then there is a young boy with blonde hair in gear standing back to back with a boy who looks like a younger version of the boy she saw with Jem before. After that she sees Jace and Alec, facing each other in the light of the _Parabatai_ ceremony. Then Simon holding a crying Clary into the night, both of them so young, no sign of runes on either of their bodies.

But she sees more than just flashes of the past. She sees visions of what she thinks is the future, things she's almost certain haven't happened yet. Dru holding her hand out to a fae boy, his ethereal green eyes full of pain and sadness. Simon and Isabelle in Alicante, dancing at the reception of their wedding, their smiles brighter than all the witchlight in the city. Clary, her bloody body on the ground, ashes all around her as Jace rocks her back and forth in his grief. A group of shadowhunters surrounding a grave, each of them dressed in white and whispering the final words of farewell: _Ave Atque Vale_. And finally, Emma herself, wielding Cortana on horseback across a battlefield, her runes glowing brilliantly.

All of it fades into a field of white as far as she can see. Her body falls lightly to the ground, though that, too, is white, unlike the green field she left behind. In front to her lies Julian, his body no longer covered in blood. She can almost pretend he's just sleeping. It's as if they've been transported, but to where she doesn't know.

" _Purgatorium_ ," a voice says behind her. She turns to see a young man with hair black as night, his eyes a crystalline blue. She recognizes him from one of her visions of _parabatai_ , the one with Jem. This must be William Herondale. Or at least, something that looks like him, since she's pretty sure he died a long time ago.

"What?" she asks. Her mind is reeling, unable to hang onto anything solid.

"We are in a realm called _Purgatorium_ ," he says.

"You mean the place you go for judgement before being sent to either heaven or hell?" Emma questions, unable to wrap her brain around what is happening. Or perhaps this isn't happening. Perhaps this is her mind playing tricks on her as one last part of the parabatai curse.

The man chuckles and says, "Mundanes are strange creatures, are they not? They make up such intricate stories with only the barest of information. Though, I always did like Dante's writing. He was imaginative, I'll give him that." Emma shakes her head, not following. "Purgatory is just another realm, like Edom or Faerie. And no judgement comes to pass here. It is only a holding place."

"I've never heard of it before," Emma states. "It was never in any Shadowhunter texts or histories." The man shakes his head.

"This realm is not easily accessible, nor is it shown to those who wish to find it." The man's face lights up with a sly grin. "It is a realm between two planes of existence, between this life and what lies beyond. It is a place yet it is not. It is tangible only when it needs to be, floating in and out of existence itself." Emma takes a moment to let his words sink in.

"You're William Herondale, aren't you?" Emma asks the man, the question coming out of her without a thought. The man's blue eyes spark, and he smiles with only a touch of sadness.

"Yes, I am William Herondale," he admits. "But you may call me Will."

"You're Jem's parabatai," Emma states, not sure why she is continuing to make such obvious observations. Will smiles again, his hand reaching to cover his faded parabatai rune. The movement seems involuntary, as if just the mention of Jem's name could make him feel the presence of his friend.

"Yes, but that is not important now," Will tells her. "You are here to make a decision."

"A decision?"

"Yes, Emma Carstairs," he states. "A decision for you and your beloved."

Just as she's about to ask him what the hell he's talking about and how the hell he knows her name, she feels a familiar tug in her chest. She turns around to see Julian gazing at her from the ground, his countenance a mask of confusion and delight. Before she can even think or begin to comprehend what is happening, she rushes to him and crushes him in a hug. His arms go around her immediately, his face buried in her neck. She had thought she would never feel this again, and the elation of it all almost overwhelms her.

"Em," he breathes into her skin, and she shivers at the raw love in his voice.

"Julian," she manages to choke out, feeling tears of joy building up behind her eyes. The scent of cloves and soap floods her senses, and she feels him shudder against her. She pulls back enough to look into his eyes, his beautiful, expressive eyes she thought she'd never see again. Julian holds her, one hand pressed to her cheek, the other on her back keeping her tightly against him. In his eyes she sees his disbelief and his amazement.

"Emma, my angel." She whimpers, turning her head into his hand to press her lips to his skin. "This is the most perfect heaven I could imagine," he whispers, his voice full of wonder. But she shakes her head, willing him to understand.

"You're not in heaven, Jules," she tells him. "You're not dead." His eyes widen at that.

"Really?" he whispers, the word containing both sadness and hope. "It's truly you, Emma?"

"Yes," she assures him. "It's me. It's really me." And with that, Emma pulls him toward her and plants her lips firmly on his. Her hands grip him tightly as he lets out strangled sound between a moan and a sigh. They break apart to gaze into each other's eyes once more. She needs to make sure that this is really happening, that he is really here. Julian's expression tells her that he feels the same.

"I can see why you were sent here," Willam states. She had almost forgotten his presence. When she looks back at him, she finds him watching them with a wistful, almost pained expression. "I had a both a _parabatai_ and a love once. Though they were separate people."

"How fortunate for you," Emma mumbles.

"Yes, I was very fortunate in life and in love," William admits in a distant tone. "But before I found happiness, I too faced a devastating curse, though mine was purely fictitious." Emma doesn't have time to ask him about this before he continues. "Yours, I'm afraid, is very much real. You are here to be tested. If you pass, you will be able to return to the mortal realm with your curse lifted."

"And if we fail?" Julian asks, his eyes hard and questioning.

"You will face a fate worse than anything you can imagine," Will says, his expression suddenly very serious. "You will be separated for all eternity. Your souls, which are now intertwined, will break apart, leaving you irrevocably broken." Emma feels Julian swallow. But she can also feel his heart beating, the sound music to her ears.

"We will not fail," she states, leaving no room for doubt as they gaze into each other's eyes. The sea green tint of his irises is more familiar to her than her own reflection, and somehow she's not afraid of this test. She doubts that she'll ever be afraid of anything as long as Julian is by her side, as long as she can hear his heart beating, as long as he still draws breath.

"Then come," William says, holding his hands out to them. They both stand up, Julian taking the man's left hand as Emma taking his right. "What you are both about to experience will be hard to believe. So let me take this opportunity to assure you: everything that happens in this realm is real. Time may not pass in the mortal realm, and the things you see may not seem possible, but believe me when I say that they are." At this, Emma feels a jolt shoot through the arm connected to Will's hand. She blinks and when she opens her eyes, an impossible wonder stands in front of her.

"Mom? Dad?" she asks, gazing at the smiling faces of her parents. For few seconds, she just stands there, unable to fathom it. But then she remembers Will's words. She remembers that this place exists between realms, between the living and the dead. Emma rushes to her parents, hugging them tightly as she feels their warmth radiate through her body. Her mother smells just like she did in Emma's memory, a combination of sunshine and flowers. Her father's laugh sings in her ears. After a moment, she steps back, looking her parents in their faces, trying to memorize every detail. Time had taken away parts of them, parts she thought she could never get back.

It's like recalling the right answer on a test, or recognizing a voice in a crowd. The layers of them that she could not remember a moment ago now seem ingrained in her mind: the golden bridge of freckles across her father's nose, the slight angle of her mother's brow. Details that she had taken for granted when she had seen them everyday, without fail. Now, she cannot look away, trying to commit each piece of them to memory, as if to make up for not doing it before.

"Oh Emma," her mother sighs, petting her daughter's hair affectionately. Did she always have those crinkles in the corners of her eyes? In her mind, Emma only ever saw the piercing blend of intelligence and kindness in them. "You're beautiful." Emma's heart is bursting, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. How many times has she dreamt of a moment like this? Too many to count. And now here it is, her dream come true, and she can't even find her voice, can't will herself to speak.

"Yes, you've grown into a wonderful young woman," her father agrees, taking her hand in his. His fingers are soft and calloused at the same time, the hands of both a warrior and a musician. It oddly reminds her of Julian, the way his hands are hard from his bow yet smooth from his paintbrush.

"I can't believe you're really here," Emma whispers, her throat tight.

"We're here to ask you to come with us," her mother says, smiling at her father softly before turning to Emma. "We can be a family again, if that is what you wish." As soon as her mother says the words, Emma can imagine it, the happiness, the joy. She'll never have to be without them again. No more missing them, no more revenge, no more grief. All she has to do is say yes. And she almost does. But then she realizes what they are asking. She would never be able to return to the mortal realm, where her life is. She would never again see Cristina or Mark or Diana or Dru. She would never see…

"Julian," she says, his name escaping her in a breath. She knows, with a fierce certainty, that she can never live without him, for she has tasted the emptiness of a world void of his presence, and it was bitter on her tongue. His death, however brief it was, caused a death within Emma herself. "I can't go with you. I'm sorry." She looks up at her parents, expecting to see sadness or disappointment. Here she is, years after their deaths, choosing the illegal love of her _parabatai_ over reuniting with her family. Instead, both of their smiles grow even wider.

"We're so proud, Emma," her father tells her. Her mother nods in agreement, tears in her eyes. "We could not have asked for a more amazing daughter."

"We love you, honey," her mother assures her. "And we'll always be with you."

"I love you, too," she responds. Her parents turn as if to walk away and are enveloped in a light as bright as the sun until Emma can no longer see them.

"You passed," says William's voice behind her. She turns toward him, expecting to perhaps see Julian.

When she doesn't see him, she asks, "Where's Jules?"

"Your parabatai is still deciding between death and life," Will responds. "I believe the choice weighs heavily on him, as he has lost much in the mortal realm."

"So this was the test?" she asks. "We have to choose life over death?"

"Yes and no," Will says. "You must choose each other, and to do that, you must choose life." Will smiles at the thought of something. "Some might say that it is an easy choice, life or death. It is anything but. Life is hard and cruel and full of regret and grief. Death is simpler."

"Life may be complicated, but it's worth it," Emma tells him.

"Yes, it is," Will replies, a genuine smile on his face. Just at that moment, Julian appears in front of them. He blinks a few times, his eyes watery and red. Emma knows what he must have just seen, and she goes over to him hugging him tightly.

"You have passed the test," Will tells them. "You are now free to return to the mortal realm, where you will find that your _parabatai_ runes no longer hold their power. You will be bonded still, but not by _parabatai_ magic." Emma turns to him, catching the hitch in his voice.

"Is there anything you would like me to tell Jem?" Emma asks. "Or Tessa?" Will smiles in that sad, wistful way he does.

"Tell them that I am glad for them, glad that they have found happiness even in my absence. And tell them that I return their missing tenfold, that I am waiting for them."

"I will relay your message, Will," Emma assures him. "Thank you." Julian presses Emma into his side, kissing the top of her head.

"Oh, and one more thing," Will says. "There is a great darkness ahead. The future of the mortal world hangs in the balance, and you, Emma Carstairs, are to be at the center of it."

"What does that even mean?" Emma asks. But he just shakes his head.

"I told you, life is full of hardship." And with that, the blinding light takes over them once again.

Emma opens her eyes to a familiar, muddy battlefield and the gut wrenching sight of Julian's too-still body. She thinks for a moment that it was all a dream or hallucination. Then his chest rises, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. She smells something burning, and looks around to find a circle of shadowhunters and Downworlders all looking at Julian and herself in wonder. Cristina rushes over to her, her face matted with tears and rain. Mark rushes over to Emma's right. She senses, rather than sees, Julian move beside her. So she turns to him, to those beautiful sea green eyes of his, and catches him staring at her, the same look of wonder on his face.

"You brought me back," he whispers. And she doesn't know if it was her or some divine power, or something even further beyond her control, but she doesn't really care at the moment. Because she's looking at his bare chest, seeing the golden imprint of a fading rune, realizing that her own _parabatai_ rune does not ache and burn the way it did before. He catches her looking and shifts his eyes there as well. "It's gone."

"What's gone?" Emma hears Cristina asks from behind her. Emma holds Julian's gaze, her hope and joy and surprise mirrored in his countenance.

"The _parabatai_ rune, the curse," Emma tells her. "We're free." The last words come out as a whisper, barely audible, but recognition flickers in Julian's eyes, and she knows that he understands. No more hiding or running or pretending. They are free to be together, to be in love, openly. No one will get hurt or break the law or go insane.

She watches as he slowly rises, Mark helping him. Then she watches as he takes in the world around him, around them. A new world, now, one full of possibility, and love, and maybe a little hardship. He squints for a moment, scanning the crowd and cocking his head, as if contemplating something. Then, he nods, as if he's come to a decision. He takes a step towards Emma, who still sits on the muddy ground. Then he reaches his hand out to her. An offering, a gift, a promise.

"Then let us be free together," he says, in that low, deep voice he only uses with her. She doesn't hesitate. She puts her hand in his and lets him help her to her feet. There are so many things she wants to say to him, so many memories she wants to make. But right now, she just takes her free hand and caresses his cheek, watching as he relaxes into the touch immediately.

"Nothing will ever part us again," Emma tells him. Then he crashes against her, his body meeting her hers at the same time as his lips. She kisses him with all of her pain and strength and hope. She doesn't care that there are eyes everywhere, watching them. For the first time, she doesn't have to worry about it. After the sudden passion of the kiss slows, she grins into his lips.

"I love you," she whispers against his mouth. She feels his lips smile against her own, and his joyous laugh vibrates through their intertwined bodies.

"I love you, too," he responds. And it's not the first time he's said it to her, not the first time he's meant it this way, but it's different now. Because the words aren't said in desperation or longing or pain. Not whispered between sheets or hidden behind closed doors. The words are now a declaration. They are a promise. One she intends on holding him to. Forever.


End file.
